


Twenty-Two Candles

by GutterBall



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Chuck is an oblivious jerk, Cussing, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Raleigh has no clue what he wants, and is also a jerk, these two clownshoes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 07:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7257904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutterBall/pseuds/GutterBall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Herc warned Raleigh that Chuck wouldn't be too keen to celebrate his birthday, but Raleigh's tried everything else to get the big jerk to give friendship a chance. So, he makes the big jerk a birthday cake from scratch and tries to present it.</p><p>Chuck is not impressed. With a vengeance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-Two Candles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [estei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/gifts).



> This one is for [estei](http://archiveofourown.org/users/estei/works) because I'm a bad friend and never bothered to ask when her birthday is and, thus, missed it. So, in true online fandom tradition, I present her with carefully crafted smut.
> 
> Happy birthday!

He could do this. Raleigh Becket might be a has-been, whether or not he'd played his part in saving the world, but he could do this one thing. It wasn't even a difficult thing, like stepping back into a conn pod after the last one ate his brother alive.

He could do this.

Rolling his shoulders and plastering on a smile, he firmed his grip on his offering and strode into the last active jaeger bay. The official shift was over for the day, of course, but he still heard the distinctive sounds of tinkering inside and knew the moment was upon him.

He could do this.

"Happy birthday, Chuck!"

The big, shirtless, dark-goggled jerk taking a cutting torch to the plating of Crimson Typhoon's foot barely even turned his head to acknowledge Raleigh's presence. Or the carefully-frosted chocolate cake in his hands. Or the fake grin that immediately faltered at such blatant ignoring.

"Herc said you like chocolate, so...?"

The torch continued to hiss and spit.

Well, fuck. He should have known better. Herc had tried to tell him--

"Did he also say I don't give a shit about my birthday?"

\--that. Sighing, he shifted his feet and stared down at the cake he'd slaved over. "He said you might not be too keen on it."

And that the kid hadn't wanted to celebrate his birthday since he was ten. No prizes for guessing why.

"So you don't listen to him, either? There's a fucking shocker."

Okay, that was just a low blow. Jesus, weren't they past the antagonism from before Pitfall? Seven months ago, Chuck Hansen had stood at his side while Stacker Pentecost gave the goodbye speech of all speeches, and Raleigh had thought--

But no. All the friendship gestures Raleigh had thrown out since Pitfall apparently meant less than nothing. Mako encouraged him to keep trying because Chuck needed friends whether he wanted them or not, but no.

Suddenly angry, he leaned back against the nearest worktable, whipped out one of the forks he'd stuffed into a pocket -- he'd even brought saucers, a wedge server, birthday candles, and a lighter -- and ruined his careful decorating job by shoving his fork right through it. It was a huge, messy bite, and he didn't care an iota. He'd spent all damn day making a cake from scratch and icing it carefully from online instruction videos, and if Chuck didn't want it, he'd by-God eat it himself.

"Oh, fuck."

Okay, that part wasn't intentional, though it served his purpose. The cake was rich and smooth and moist and... Jesus. He usually preferred less rich sweets, but this....

He took another messy bite and moaned softly. "Jesus, no wonder you like chocolate. This is... _fuck."_

The broad back tensed, the cutting torch merely hissing now that the jerk had stopped actively cutting with it. Whatever. He had cake to eat.

Another bite. Another moan.

"Seriously? You bring me a goddamn cake, then eat it yourself?"

"Didn't bring it. Made it." Another savoring, moan-worthy bite. "And did a damn good job. Fuck."

"Why the fuck did you make me a cake?"

He finally glanced up from his decadent devouring and... oops. Chuck had turned off the cutting torch at some point, pulled the goggles up to his hairline, and pivoted to glare at him fully. Considering the big jerk was all bulging and sweaty and liberally streaked with grease and God knows what else from a long day salvaging jaeger scrap, that glare was tantamount to a threat.

In fact, as he swallowed awkwardly, Raleigh wondered if he was about to get his ass kicked. Yeah, he'd taken the kid down before, but only because he'd been furious himself. He wasn't sure he'd be able to summon up that kind of righteous fuck-you after all this time. After all these wasted friend gestures.

Okay, maybe he could, after all.

No, dammit. He was trying to be nice.

"It's... your birthday?"

The jerk put aside the torch, took off the heavy gloves, and stalked slowly closer, head down, fists and jaw clenched. "And why the fuck do you give one tin shit about my birthday?"

Sighing, he put aside the cake, just in case the kid came in swinging. "Because I'm trying to be your friend."

And wasting his time. He knew it. Chuck knew it. Hell, even Herc knew it.

"I know that, ya wanker." Sure enough, Chuck stalked closer still to glare down at him, fists still clenched. "Problem is, Ray... I don't wanna be your _friend."_

Ouch. Anger flared, but Raleigh knew it for what it was: plain, old-fashioned hurt.

But before he could even think how to respond to such blatant assholery, no matter how expected, Chuck leaned down and kissed him. Hard. Hard enough that he had to lean back on his hands to keep from being laid out flat. Kissed him like he was trying to taste the exact ratio of cake to frosting that Raleigh had eaten.

Oh. _Oh._ Chuck wanted... huh. Okay, definitely not what he'd expected.

Good kisser, though. A little rough, but the big jerk probably thought Raleigh would say no.

Did he want to say no? He hadn't really thought... he'd just wanted to... Jesus, could this kid kiss. Maybe he should just play along. It had been a damn long time.

So, he quit struggling to stay upright and let Chuck bend him back until he rested on his elbows on the worktable. With even the token resistance gone, the big jerk gentled his approach and hummed with approval. Big, heavy hands stroked up under Raleigh's shirts, up his back, around to trace light fingers over his stomach. Down over his hips to--

"Ow, fuck!"

What the-- oh. Snickering, Raleigh pulled the other fork out of his hip pocket and dropped it next to the cake. Chuck eyed him, no doubt unamused by the interruption in the proceedings, so he blushed a bit as he unloaded two saucers, the handful of birthday candles, the lighter, the pie server, and a handful of his favorite hard candies from other flap pockets.

Rolling his eyes, the big jerk leaned back in, and Raleigh couldn't help but chuckle as he met him halfway. He didn't even mind the mingled smells of sweat and engine grease that were likely permeating his own clothes at the moment. In fact, the heat coming off that solid, flexing body felt amazing. The metal shatterdome seemed to always hold a hint of a chill, especially on rainy days like this one, so the press of all that warm, damp, heavily-worked flesh....

Fuck it. Scooting up enough to lie back completely, he reached around to pull Chuck closer still. He hitched one leg behind a taut thigh and wrapped his arms around the sweaty back. God, it felt good. It felt even better when Chuck hmmed again and ground against him. The kid was already hard, which made Raleigh groan and harden, as well.

Those heavy hands stroked his hoodie away, then the t-shirt beneath it, made quick work of his pants and boots, his socks and boxer briefs. They made even quicker work of Chuck's pants and goggles, etc., and soon enough, they were both sweating and breathless and liberally streaked with jaeger grease and straining together for the next step.

But they were in the goddamn jaeger bay. What the hell were they thinking?

As if suddenly aware of the problem, Chuck moaned softly and leaned his forehead against Raleigh's. "Fuck, mate, I didn't think...." Groaning, he rocked their hips together. "Don't suppose you have any condoms to go with the other shit in your pockets?"

Uttering something desperately close to a whimper, he wrapped his legs around narrow hips and arched. "Honestly? I'm more worried about lube than condoms."

Warm breath fanned his face as the big jerk shivered. "Lube, I've got." Rocking against him again, Chuck groaned. "Look, I've fucked around, yeah, but I swear I'm clean."

He leaned up and kissed that usually taunting mouth. "I haven't fucked around since Knifehead, so yeah. I'm clean, too."

Chuck's eyes opened wide, and he stared down incredulously. Shifting with both discomfort and because he really, really wanted to feel that throbbing, insistent erection against his own again, Raleigh shrugged and tried to act like it didn't mean anything.

But it did. And Chuck knew it did.

Thankfully, after a short internal struggle that Raleigh could only guess at, the kid leaned down for another kiss, absently reaching along the worktable for something. For a second, Raleigh wondered if he was about to be slathered with chocolate frosting -- and wasn't sure if he would complain -- but Chuck found what he was feeling for soon enough. The click of the bottle opening reassured him, so he didn't complain when that warm, solid body pulled away just enough to reach between them.

It had been so long, but Chuck was as gentle as their mutually increasing need allowed. Until, of course, he found Raleigh's prostate, at which point the competitive prick came back, and the big jerk kept stroking over and around it until Raleigh was both cursing and pleading for the torment -- but oh, such sweet torment -- to end and for Chuck to just fuck him already.

Smirking, the arrogant bastard finally moved to comply. Grumbling even as he raised his hips in blatant invitation, Raleigh cheated by latching onto the sensitive skin just below Chuck's ear and sucking hard.

"Fuck, mate, everyone's gonna see that."

But it was more a groan than a complaint, and that impressive erection twitched against him as he chuckled in his throat and sucked a little more. Shuddering, the jerk finally positioned himself and pushed just inside.

Fuck. It had been a long time. Maybe too long. Or maybe they'd been impatient. Either way, he hissed in a wincing breath, and Chuck paused, tensing.

"Should I--"

"No, fuck, don't stop now."

Because it stung, yes, but it also felt fucking incredible, and he hadn't felt that stretch, that _fullness_ in a damn long time. His last three relationships had been with women -- mainly because the PPDC wanted to encourage that swaggering, all-American ideal he and Yance seemed to project during the jaeger program's heyday -- so it had been far too many years since he'd been on the receiving end.

So no. He didn't want Chuck to stop.

And he didn't. The kid didn't just shove in, but he didn't stop, either. By the time he'd settled against Raleigh, all that warm weight pressing him back into the worktable, Raleigh felt no pain. In fact, he felt perfect. And when Chuck gave into his arching hips and coaxing kisses and pulled back for an actual thrust, he felt better still. And then the kid began to thrust in earnest, and there weren't even words for how good it felt.

For all that Chuck had been an antisocial jerk, he was a phenominal lover. The competitive nature, most likely, but applied in an infinitely better way than starting fights and being insulting. And Raleigh was not complaining. Pleading and grunting and straining against that perfect, strong body, but definitely not complaining.

"Fuck, Raleigh, feels so fucking good...."

Somehow, the rare correct pronunciation of his name in that usually snarky accent just turned him on even more, and he realized he was within an ace of coming already. He'd be embarrassed, but he was too busy arching up for more and harder.

"Fuck, yes, mate...."

Had he said it out loud? Fuck, he didn't even care. All that flexing muscle devoted to fucking him even harder into the worktable instead of pushing him away or trying to stove in his ribs felt fucking _amazing._ Damn near every thrust hit his prostate with this angle, and he felt himself coming completely undone. That Chuck, of all people, could do this to him--

"Raleigh... Raleigh... mate, I can't hold back anymore, yeah?"

Hold back? Jesus, Chuck was holding back?

Breathless, he wrapped his legs tighter around Chuck's waist. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

Groaning, his former nemesis planted both hands on the worktable and... oh, sweet mercy, let fucking _loose._ Raleigh wasn't sure if the harder, faster thrusts hurt or not because his balls had already drawn up, and one look at that usually arrogant face flushed and tight with effort, the red hair mussed and dripping sweat, the streak of jaeger schmutz across one cheek, flung him into an almost instantaneous orgasm. He whited out with the force of it, a vocalization somewhere between a cry and a shout straining at his throat.

Chuck followed with a shout of his own, thrusting hard enough that the worktable groaned where it was bolted into the floor. Another hard thrust, and Raleigh shuddered and wrapped the big jerk up tight with both his arms and legs, holding him with all his strength as he felt that hot release inside him. It was almost enough to make him come again, if he were capable of it so soon after his own release.

Gasping and clinging to each other, they slowly came down from the heights. Raleigh kept his face pressed against the damp, heated curve of Chuck's throat, reveling in the feel of that big body relaxing against his, the solid weight anchoring him to the worktable but not restraining him in any way. In the lazy shift of the back muscle he eventually had the motor control to stroke his fingers over.

Still sweaty, that back. Still heated. Still broad as fuck and strangely comforting for it.

He could get used to this.

Grinning softly, he muttered against the pulse in Chuck's throat. "Should I ask why you have lube in the jaeger bay?"

"Not just lube." The kid's voice was muzzy and slow. "Astroglide."

He blinked. "Okay. Why Astroglide?"

"You do know it was originally invented for use on space shuttles, yeah? It does have other applications."

"...Oh."

No. He hadn't known that. But of course Chuck would.

The grin came back. "So... that's why you didn't wanna be friends? You coulda just said so."

Huffing, Chuck shifted to stroke a hand down Raleigh's flank and grip the curve of his ass. "What was I supposed to say? Oi, I don't like you and you don't like me, but are you down to fuck out some aggression?"

Some of the post-orgasmic haze faded, and Raleigh... frowned. Just a bit, and he kept stroking that broad, strong back, but still. He frowned.

Because that sounded like--

"Chuck?"

The hand on his ass flexed. "Hm?"

He felt really good right now. Satisfied. Did he really want to ask the question and ruin the moment?

"You don't want anything else from me, do you." His voice was flat, and it wasn't a question. Because he didn't have to ask, after all. Deep down, he knew. "Just a quick fuck to scratch the itch."

Moving slowly, Chuck leaned up, smoothing his hand from Raleigh's ass to his hip. His expression was... wary? Was that what the wrinkled forehead meant?

"Is this still about you trying to be friends?" Definitely wariness, if that tone of voice was any indication. "Frankly, I've never had much use for mates, and not a lot of patience for them."

Well, at least he wasn't surprised. Though the feeling of disappointment in his gut was unexpected. Trying not to be aggressive about it, he gently pushed Chuck up off of him and scooted off the table. He hadn't exactly missed the weird slick feeling inside him and down his thighs, but it felt even less pleasant now.

"Oi, fuck, Raleigh, you aren't wanting a... _relationship_ or whatever the fuck...?"

Considering that Chuck voiced the word "relationship" with almost as much distaste as he occasionally used when discussing the still-existing kaiju cults, Raleigh had no doubt how to answer the question. Using his t-shirt to wipe himself off enough to put on enough clothing to get to a shower, he avoided the big jerk's intent but still wary gaze.

"No, Chuck. I didn't want a relationship." Swallowing down a frustration he didn't even really understand, he stepped into his boxer briefs and looked around for his socks. Fuck, were those his or Chuck's? "And since you don't have much use for friends, I guess I'll just be on my way."

The jerk was silent as Raleigh tossed aside the damp socks for the dry ones and quickly got dressed. When he was sure he had all his clothes -- if not his dignity, because he was starting to really feel the thorough and enthusiastic pounding he'd taken, so tying his boots had been something of a trial -- he headed out of the jaeger bay, hoping he'd feel a little less like a fucktoy once he'd showered away the evidence.

"Raleigh?"

His jaw clenched, but he didn't turn back. "Happy birthday, Chuck. Enjoy the cake."

Because it was the last gesture of friendship he'd ever make to that arrogant, smirking jackass.

\--

A good, hot shower made Raleigh's aching body feel better, and a long, silent sulk in his bed while he tried and failed to read left him with a "what's done is done" attitude about the whole situation. No, he didn't fuck for the sake of fucking, but everyone made mistakes. His had been thinking Chuck had anything like the finer emotions. That the big jerk had been offering anything other than a momentary distraction from their bullshit rivalry that Raleigh had never wanted in the first place.

Grunting with irritation, he threw his book across the room, then immediately regretted it. Abusing literature wouldn't do anything but ruin one of the few print novels he'd managed to hoard all these years. So, sighing, he hauled out of bed with a wince and a cringe at the reminder of why he wasn't moving with his usual fluidity and ambled over to pick up the book. He eyed it for damage, but other than a few bent pages that he quickly unbent, it seemed fine.

Thus, when someone knocked at the door, he answered with relative good grace instead of a scowl. Of course, when he opened the door and saw Chuck standing on his stoop, showered and scrubbed, that useless fucking cake in hand and a ridiculously sheepish expression on his stupid, arrogant face, the scowl came back in a hurry.

"What."

The jerk sighed. "Yeah, I deserve that."

He rolled his eyes. "What do you want, Chuck? We already got out the aggression, so you can't possibly want to fuck again."

Shifting his feet awkwardly, the giant ginger asshole sighed again. "Yeah. Deserved that, too."

Unimpressed, he leaned one hand on the door and raised an eyebrow.

"Right." Shifting again, the prick lowered his gaze to his boots. "Look, mate, I didn't see any of this coming, yeah? Didn't really know what I wanted from you, other than that you've been spank material since I was a kid and being a has-been didn't seem change that, no matter how bad it pissed me off."

Said as if the jerk wasn't still a kid. He rolled his eyes at the implied height of wisdom the prick had supposedly achieved even as he fought a sigh at the continued reminder of Chuck's low opinion of him. Once a has-been, always a has-been.

"I didn't want to be friends. I just wanted to fuck you, okay? I didn't want it to mean anything, because I don't have time for that shit. I've _never_ had time for that shit."

His jaw clenched. "If you're just here to remind me that I'll never be more than a fucktoy to you--"

"Oi, don't." Paling, the kid shifted his feet again. "Don't do that, mate. You're not a fucktoy, and you fucking know it."

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to know it?"

Now Chuck's jaw clenched. "Because I'm here right now trying to explain that I'm a fucking moron and apologize, ya wanker."

His eyes narrowed. "Explain and apologize."

Shrugging, the jerk nodded.

"Well?"

"You're making this really fucking difficult, Ray."

Not budging an inch, he crossed his arms.

Those broad shoulders slumped. "Can we just... try to be friends?"

One eyebrow rose. What the hell was this now?

"Look, I know I'm an asshole. I know I don't have a fucking clue how to deal with people. But I felt like I was gonna throw up when you stormed off, and even a fuckwit like me knew I'd hurt your goddamn feelings and treated you worse than a one-night stand."

His jaw clenched again, but it was Raleigh shifting his feet awkwardly this time. "Why do you care?"

Another shrug. "I dunno, mate. I just... care. Didn't wanna leave it like that, yeah?"

Dammit. He felt himself softening and quickly reminded himself of how it had felt to realize he meant absolutely nothing to the big jerk standing so slump-shouldered and uncomfortable on his stoop.

But... the jerk _was_ standing on his stoop. And was trying to explain himself, however ineptly.

Sighing, he felt himself slumping, as well. "What do you want from me, Chuck?"

The kid's eyes lifted to his, then darted away. "I... dunno, really. Just... this is a pretty goddamn good cake." The corner of his mouth twitched in a poor attempt at a grin. "Maybe we could share it?"

It probably didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things. Hell, Raleigh hadn't wanted anything but friendship with the kid, anyway, right? What could it hurt to sit down with the big jerk and have a piece of birthday cake?

Sighing again, he stood back enough to count as an invitation, and Chuck actually managed a grin. Those goddamn dimples made an appearance, and Raleigh rolled his eyes and gestured toward the desk. He couldn't help but be a bit amused when the jerk started offloading the saucers and candles and such from his pockets. He'd even brought back Raleigh's hard candies.

But he held up a hand when the kid started to cut into the cake with the wedge server. Chuck raised his eyebrows but paused readily enough. Grinning ruefully -- more at himself than at Chuck -- Raleigh picked up the candles and stuck them in the half of the cake he hadn't dug into earlier. He even lit them with the lighter before backing off and raising his eyebrows expectantly.

"Really? Just four? Is that a comment on my emotional maturity?"

He grunted. "Two and two, asshole. I couldn't find twenty-two candles in the kitchens."

To his credit, Chuck restrained himself to rolling his eyes as he bent down and blew out the measely four he'd managed to scrounge. Then, as the kid cut big wedges of cake, Raleigh tilted his head to one side and gave into curiosity.

"So what'd you wish for?"

Giving him a wary look, Chuck forked in a bite of cake and chewed it with a little too much deliberation. Eventually, he swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Honestly? I wished to never put that fucking 'No, I'm not crushed, I just have a mild cramp' look on your face again. Pretty sure you could stop a rampaging kaiju with that expression alone."

Well, shit.

It was his turn to look away. "If it's any consolation, I didn't know I'd be crushed, either."

He couldn't help but look back, though, when the big jerk sidled close enough to elbow him gently.

"Guess we'll just have to figure this shit out as we go along, yeah?"

Did he mean... no. No jumping to conclusions. No getting hopes up that he didn't even know he had.

So, he narrowed his eyes. "So, you _do_ wanna be friends, after all?"

To his surprise, the kid blushed enough to hide his freckles and stared down at his wedge of cake. "Might be open to a bit more than that, mate."

So much for not getting his hopes up. He couldn't have stopped his grin if he'd known it was coming. Luckily, Chuck glanced up just enough to see it and lit up himself, bringing those damn dimples back into play.

"Yeah?"

Sighing and well aware that he was probably in for more lessons in patience than he had the patience to deal with, Raleigh gave in completely. "Yeah."

Moving hesitantly and giving him plenty of chance to refuse, Chuck leaned in. Raleigh met him halfway and hoped it was a sign of things to come.

He couldn't help himself. Chuck was a damn fine kisser.

"Did I mention that the cake is really fucking good?"

He grinned crookedly. "I could stand a repeat."

The brat's eyes darkened, and he deliberately pulled away just enough to fork in another bite. "This cake is really fucking good."

His heartbeat sped up. "Guess I'll have to taste it to be sure."

It was, indeed, a very tasty cake. It tasted especially good from Chuck's mouth, on Chuck's tongue. After a long moment of sampling the decadent richness, he pulled back enough to lean their foreheads together.

"Happy birthday, Chuck."

That grin. It would be the death of him.

"It's not over yet, mate."

He leaned away and raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

He expected wagging ginger eyebrows and a likely messy tackling to his bed. He really should stop trying to predict what the giant jerk would do, though, because Chuck ducked his head again, looking bashful and sheepish and entirely too adorable to be as big a jerk as he could be.

"You said something a few weeks back about... movie night? Never had one of those before."

He blinked, surprised and not ashamed to show it. "You want to crash on too many pillows with too many snacks and watch too many movies until we fall asleep?"

Even his shrug looked bashful. "'S my birthday, yeah?"

Raleigh softened all over again, mercilessly assaulted by warm fuzzies and knowing, yet again, that he was only setting himself up for more trouble. This time, he didn't struggle against it quite so hard.

"That it is." Shaking his head and grinning ruefully all over again, he put down his piece of cake and went to his closet for more pillows and blankets. "I hope you like science fiction."

"Mate, I telepathically controlled a giant robot to fight interdimensional monsters that climbed out of a portal from another planet at the bottom of the goddamn ocean."

He snorted. He couldn't help it. "Right. Science fiction, it is."

And when they were settled on their stomachs, propped up on a pile of pillows with their cake in front of them, their feet kicking lazily behind them, Raleigh let himself hope that this would become a regular thing. That Chuck meant what he said. That the entertaining, if snarky, commentary at movies Raleigh had seen dozens of times but were completely new to Chuck would continue.

That the slow, lazy kisses as they drowsily ignored the last half of the second movie meant everything was finally okay between them.

He let himself hope.

And as he drifted off to sleep with Chuck a heavy, warm weight on his chest, he guessed the big jerk had managed to have a happy birthday, after all. Said jerk wasn't complaining. Drooling spit-diluted chocolate on Raleigh's chest, but not complaining.

Win-win.

So, grinning and finally letting himself think about the future -- well, the _near_ future; no sense getting carried away -- he tightened his hold on those broad shoulders and drifted off to sleep.

It had been a long, long day.

**THE END**


End file.
